


I'm A Catch!

by AzzleDazzle



Series: Yuri!!! In Vegas [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Implied drinking, M/M, implied blackout drinking, implied sex, vegas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzzleDazzle/pseuds/AzzleDazzle
Summary: Yuuri wakes up with the hangover of his life and a new husband he doesn't remember marrying. Phichit is to probably to blame. Um, oops?





	

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHAHA I SHOULD BE WORKING RIGHT NOW BUT I'M WATCHING ANIME AND WRITING TRASH FICS WELCOME TO MY LIFE
> 
> Also, just want to say that this could possibly be considered non-con if you're very triggered by that. The characters got blackout drunk (both of them) and had sex, but because some people are triggered by drunk consent, I wanted to give another heads up.

It's... early. Or late, Yuuri can't really tell. All he knows is the sunlight streaming through the windows is hitting his very hungover face and it is _not_ pleasant. He hates it. A lot. He's also pretty sure he's dying because his head is pounding and his mouth is dry and his ass-

A groan next to him jolts him fully into the land of the living and he scrambles backwards until he falls off of the bed. Which is much larger than his hotel bed and this room is not his and, yeah, that really hot guy on the bed is definitely not part of the hotel package, he would remember that face.

"Chris, shut the blinds," the man groans, burying his face into his pillow.

"Chris?"

The head pops up at the unfamiliar voice, squinting suspiciously at Yuuri. "Who are you and why are you on the floor?"

"Leaving now," Yuuri manages to stammer. It's only when he stands (slowly, because _fuck_ does his head hurt) that he realizes he's completely naked. He yelps, covering his dick with both hands, much to the amusement to his apparent bedmate.

“Oh, I’m quite sure I saw more than that last night,” the man purrs, which, really, is so ridiculous but it’s also a little hot? And Yuuri hates how easily he blushes, but then wording catches his attention.

“Do you not remember last night either?”

The man has the grace to look a little chagrined. “Ah, no, not everything. We met at a club?”

Yuuri shrugs, his eyes darting around the room, squinting as he looks for his glasses or clothes or _just anything at this point, please_. His vision isn’t so bad that he can’t just leave and buy a new pair of glasses, but he really needs his underwear, at the very least. Pants preferably.

Pants.

Pants that Phichit said he couldn’t wear underwear with because of lines and, yeah, Yuuri is officially going to murder his best friend.

It’s at that point that the man sits up and stretches and for a moment, Yuuri is pretty proud of himself for landing that guy, even for a night. His body is long and thin and pale enough that he looks like he’s carved from marble. How did that even happen?

But then the glint of a ring hits Yuuri’s face and his stomach drops because that is unmistakably a wedding ring. 

“You’re married?!” Yuuri yelps, forgetting his embarrassment for a moment in the face of the fact that he apparently slept with a married man. (There’s no point in pretending it didn’t happen; his ass hurts too much for him to be able to deny it.)

The man frowns, looking at his right hand, then his left, his eyes widening comically at the golden ring wrapped around it. “Um, I’m wasn’t yesterday,” he says. He looks at Yuuri’s hand and Yuuri officially Does Not Want To Look. “Were you?”

“No,” he manages to squeak. “Where’s my phone?” The man points to the nightstand on the side of the bed Yuuri is standing on and, yup, there it is. He fumbles for a minute, eyes squinting at the screen as he focuses on unlocking it, ignoring the sounds of movements next to him, at least until his glasses come into his line of sight. The man is smiling gently at him, glasses a peace offering between them, and Yuuri doesn’t stop the grateful smile that spreads across his face as he places them on his nose.

_16 messages from Phichit._

_3 missed calls from Phichit._

_34,906 new Instagram notifications._

“What the hell.”

The man chuckles, so close to his ear that Yuuri shivers. “I think that might be my fault.”

Fingers trembling, Yuuri unlocks his phone. There, in his inbox, is evidence of the night before. Phichit had sent a couple of photos of the part of the night before that Yuuri actually remembers, but as he flips through, he begins to look thoroughly disheveled, hair a mess, face flush, and suddenly the man next to him appears in the photos, along with another unfamiliar man. It ends with Yuuri leaning on the man next to him in front of a rather good Elvis impersonator in front of what is obviously a wedding chapel like you typically find on every corner here in Vegas, though more upscale than a cheap one. The very last one is the two of them locked in a passionate kiss, rings glinting on their fingers.

Yuuri is officially a horrible cliche.

“Chris says it’s true, we got married last night,” the man pipes up from where he’s lounging casually on the bed and Yuuri is suddenly, harshly, reminded of his own nudity, chubby form bared to this Adonis. He tugs the sheet and his husband (Mom is going to kill him and Mari is _never going to let him live this down_ ) lifts himself up, letting Yuuri pull it away so he can wrap it haphazardly around himself.

“This can’t be happening to me,” he moans.

“Hey, I’m a catch,” the man replies, frowning.

“I don’t even know your _name_! I don’t know anything about you! And why the hell do I have so many Instagram notifications!”

The man looks sheepish. “Ah, well, I can help with that. My name is Viktor Nikiforov, I’m a famous actor from Russia, and I tagged you when I posted a picture of us with our rings on Instagram last night. Oh, and I'm your new husband.”

Mari is really never going to let him live this down.

**Author's Note:**

> *I'm a garbage fan, living in a garbage caaaaaaaaan*
> 
> So no promises on seconds, but there might be? I'm working on a monster Victorian era arranged marriage A/B/O fic that I want to finish before posting, but if I want to distract myself, I might write more of this. Or the club fic. Or the Yuuri-as-a-professor-and-they-fuck-against-the-white-board fic. There's just _so many possibilities *throws glitter in the air*_
> 
> Edit: _IF_ I continued this, what would you like to see written?


End file.
